


Foresight

by sansos



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Canon compliant except Kuroo is Prometheus, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Reader-Insert, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25165444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansos/pseuds/sansos
Summary: Kuroo Tetsurou had a secret –a secret that brought upon nightmares brimming with the acrid scent of blood and the mental prison of solitude in a vast sea night after night. A secret so ancient and so powerful that granted him the ability to change even the hands of fate.Now if only he could use that power to stop you from figuring it out.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou & Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 31





	1. I. Foresight

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been listening to a podcast about Greek mythology and I thought --what if? So here is a Kuroo x Reader Greek Mythology AU (But not really) I slapped together from that thought.
> 
> Anyone else a huge Percy Jackson fan growing up?

The smell of sea salt caught his attention first. Then, it was the sudden bone-chilling wave of the freezing sea crashing into him and soaking him to his core that hit him next.

He sputtered as he struggled to cough out the water, lungs gasping for air as his windpipe desperately exchanged liquid for gas. He could feel droplets of water roll down from the long black hair now slicked against his face, stealing all residual warmth that might have remained in the areas it dripped onto —from his collarbones, his chest, even his bare feet.

He looked up, squinting at the afternoon rays that glared into his golden eyes. He moved a hand to shield himself from the light, but was instead met with resistance —with the pain of metal digging deep into the thin skin of his wrists.

He glanced over at one of his hands, finding that it was tightly secured against the boulder he had been leaning against by a metal chain. He recognized this situation —he’s been in this position more times than once. He swallowed a cry of fear and squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on a single phrase with such fervent yearning it sounded more like a plea than the reminder it was meant to be.

_This is just a dream._

He could hear the flaps of broad wings from above, each movement so swift and so clean that the sound of a single flutter alone carried across the notion of power and regality. A chill crept up his spine as he felt his heart pick up, drowning out even the crashing waves of the ocean with the loud pounding against the walls of his chest.

_I need to wake up._

The bird screeched from high above in its domain in the sky, and the man opened his golden eyes once more to look up, narrowing to make out the shape of the winged beast. The creature that had just previously soared past the gates of Olympus had now turned around to start its descent —plunging down with the force of gravity propelling it further and faster. The man’s gaze remained transfixed on the eagle despite realizing that the target was, without a doubt, _him_. The bird of prey was traveling with such velocity and such accuracy that impact was inevitable and any effort to escape would have be in vain.

_Wake up._

His eyes widened, pupils so blown out that the gold of his irises was obscured by the pitch black emptiness of the void. The distance crept closer and closer until the eagle was mere inches away —his body mere milliseconds from being pierced and ripped apart by the beak of the predator.

He braced himself for impact as he drew in a final steady breath.

And then his world went black.

His eyes flew open as his body shot upwards to sit him upright on the bed. Frantic hands flew to press against his torso without second thought, determined to stop the bleeding from whatever wound he had just suffered. Yet it was surprise, not fear, that overtook his senses when his hands were met by the soft cotton of the t-shirt he was wearing —free of both blood and sea water. He looked around, letting his eyes slowly acclimate to the darkness of his surroundings. There was no glaring sun, there was no thrashing and clashing of the rolling waves, and there was certainly no trace of the distinctive brine of the sea that had flooded his nostrils from before.

His breathing was shallow, still panting from the shock of the dream he had just fled from, and his heart was racing marathons inside of his chest. He took a deep breath, focusing on the expansion and contraction of his lungs. There was no need for the adrenaline; there was no place for fear to remain in control. He recognized his surroundings. He was no longer imprisoned in the middle of the sea —he was back in the safety of his own room.

His shoulders dropped, and he reached a hand up to run his fingers through his messy black hair.

“That dream again, huh.”

 _5:30 AM_ read the clock by his side, and Kuroo blindly reached over for the device to turn his alarm off, having to squint to take a better look at the inscription on the side to find the right button to press.

“Guess I’ll run to school today,” he mumbled, voice still hoarse from slumber, as he reached over again to exchange his clock for his glasses. Slipping on the black rims, he carefully tiptoed out of his room to head over to the bathroom across the hall, taking care to not wake up the sleeping inhabitants of his family.

It was in the eerie silence of mornings like this that Kuroo felt most at ease —when no one else was around and he was alone in his own world. Perhaps it was paradoxical, given how these mornings actually came to be, but there was no other time where he was able to enjoy the freedom that always seemed to follow once he escaped from that nightmare. Free from prying eyes and curious ears, free from the scrutiny of others, and free from the control of the dreams of the past that remained to haunt him. 

He slipped his left contact on, having pried his eye open with both arms against the bathroom mirror. For as long as he’d worn contacts for, his father had lectured him on his bad habit of resting his arms on the mirror whenever he caught him in the act, reasoning that it left marks on the mirror that his grandmother would have to clean later on. His family meant everything to him, and Kuroo strived to be the best son and grandson he could in everything that he did to make them proud. And yet, in spite of it all, this small act of defiance was simply something that he couldn’t find in him to give up.

Having to rely on pieces of plastic just to be able to see, to experience, and to _live_ was such a bizarrely human experience. It was humbling that he would always see less until both contacts were in, his vision clearing instantly with a literal blink of his sepia eyes as the lens molded themselves against his cornea. It was a constant reminder of how limited his abilities now were, and how reliant on such foreign and manmade forces he had become.

It was a reminder of his humanity.

And as he tied up the laces to his shoes, his backpack resting snuggly against his broad back, his mind drifted back to the nightmare he had just woken up from: the desolate view of the broad sea with no sign of civilization in sight, the chaffing of the chains around his wrists, the sound of powerful wings flapping from above, and the pain —the piercing pain in his abdomen so strong and so vivid that the marks from when he dug his fingernails into his palm still remained.

But then again, did it really count as a nightmare if he’s had to live through it for as long as humanity has existed?

_Probably not._

He sighed and got up from the step he had been sitting on, hands ghosting his wrists to check for signs of a chain. A sense of relief spread throughout his chest when he was met with nothing but his own skin.

He turned the key to lock the door and started on his run, clutching on tightly to the straps of his backpack to steady the article as he quickened his running pace. The scenery around him had blurred as he picked up in speed, though he saw in his mind every exact detail of his surroundings. The third branch of the tree in the first corner he turned had exactly five leaves on it, the store sign of the local grocery store near his house had a chip on the upper right corner. He had run this route to school all throughout high school in mornings like this —mornings where he woke up soaked in cold sweat. Running helped to keep his mind off of things; it helped to refocus on the present and keep his mind off of the past.

He’s lived through it day after day, year after year, century after century, and in spite of the time that had passed, the memory still haunted him even now that he was free. He quickened his stride.

No, he was free now —free from it all, free from the bastard who had imprisoned him all those eons ago—

“—Prometheus,” A voice interrupted.

Kuroo froze and slowly turned around. The shock, or perhaps fear was more appropriate, of hearing _that_ name had sucked out all the strength in his legs, and yet something deep within him —ancient, powerful, dangerous even— coursed through his veins to keep him upright, ready to attack at a moment’s notice.

He visibly relaxed when he recognized who it was that was behind him, the adrenaline —or whatever it was— rescinding once he realized the voice belonged to not a foe, but rather a friend.

“Kenma, I swear to the gods, if you _keep_ calling me that,” he began as he walked up to his childhood friend with his hands on his hips, “I _will_ burn you.”

“Swearing to yourself isn’t very accountable,” Kenma pointedly responded as he walked on ahead of Kuroo and past the school gates, eyes never leaving the screen of the game he was playing. “Don’t worry though, no one’s around. I checked.”

Kuroo let out a sigh of relief as he picked up his pace to catch up to the blond, chastising him for scaring him, _his beloved upperclassman and childhood friend_ , so early in the morning.

“You could’ve used that weird ability of yours to predict that I would’ve done it anyways,” Kenma shrugged as he kept his eyes trained downwards, paying no heed to the taller man’s eye roll as he continued to jam the buttons on his game console.

“That’s not how foresight works, Kenma,” Kuroo grumbled as he stopped at the beginning of the hallway, turning around to wave at his friend. Kenma raised an eyebrow and nodded skeptically at Kuroo.

“Well, should’ve seen it coming anyways,” he said as he turned the corner and walked off to his classroom, lifting a hand to wave back.

Kuroo headed in the direction of the club room, staring down at the fine lines etched into his hand as he navigated through the hallways by memory.

_Prometheus, huh?_

His hands were well calloused from years of volleyball training, and the scar from the stitches he got after getting cut by the playground equipment in his childhood sat raised on the side of his index finger.

 _I’m not Prometheus_. A titan wouldn’t be marred by such mortal injuries. 

He dropped his bag onto the floor and pulled open his locker door, grabbing the neatly folded spare uniform and shoes he kept on days like this.

_No, I’m not Prometheus._

His eyes briefly glowed golden, and he saw on the side of the locker door a dent that he was certain wasn’t there the day before.

_Though I guess I’m not exactly not, either._

He heaved a sigh as he closed the locker door and slung his bag back on his shoulders. He leaned in closer to take a look to confirm what he saw earlier, and sure enough, a dent had appeared by the corner. A dent that had appeared when he slammed the door a _little_ too hard to close it. Another sigh breathed out, and Kuroo pulled open the club door to head back to class. He’ll come up with an excuse to explain the dented door later. 

_It’s complicated._

Complicated in the “your cousin sentenced you to be chained against a rock to have your liver pecked by a weird bird all because you started a club with members you created from clay and gave them something to help make their lives easier, but then his son came by and freed you and all was going great until you accidentally offended your cousin again so he banished your consciousness into a mortal life” kind of way.

He slid open the classroom door and slumped down into his chair, resting his head against the desk surface as he stared out the window into the sky. The morning sun slowly rising from the east had painted the sky into a picturesque landscape of pinks and oranges —the warmth of life and the beauty of hope exuded by the twilight sky.

He rolled his eyes. _Show off._

“Tetsu? You’re early again today,” a familiar voice chimed from above. Kuroo’s eyes glowed softly, the light brown of his irises flickering golden for a moment once more as a face rippled into his mind.

 _So it was you_.

His lips twitched into a smile as he straightened up in his chair, looking up to greet his companion properly.

“Morning, (f/n).”

Perhaps Zeus had meant it as a punishment when he banished him onto Earth to “live with the mortals you seem to love so much and witness their evil for yourself”. Or perhaps the punishment lied instead in the idea of having his powers stripped and mortality forced upon him. Him, a being as ancient as the Olympians themselves.

Regardless of whatever his cousin’s original intention was, he couldn’t really say that he minded it all too much. After all, living his life out as the mortal known as Kuroo Tetsurou beat having his liver pecked apart day in and day out by far.

 _And besides,_

He smiled contently as he saw the sun reflect in your eyes, its light bathing you in shades of yellow and orange while softly framing your features with such life and such happiness. He’d have to thank his second cousin for being so diligent with that chariot of his later.

_It was Kuroo Tetsurou who had met (l/n) (f/n), after all._


	2. An Umbrella with Red Polka Dots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The power of foresight has especially been helpful to Kuroo when the rain clouds suddenly converged and water showered down from Olympus. Though it would’ve been nice if he had put more forethought into what he told you.

“Can you believe we had that pop quiz in calculus today? Nakamura-sensei just taught integrals last class and he expects us to know it well enough to answer university level questions?” You grumbled as you walked to the front door with Kuroo, “I couldn’t answer any of the questions, could you?”

Never in your life have you ever felt so stumped on a quiz before. You were a good student —always ranking in the top 10 in your grade, never hesitating to ask questions after class, and diligently pouring in hours at night to reinforce what was taught. Kuroo wasn’t one to slack off either, nearly mirroring all of your own efforts in his studies, but it just seemed like your best friend had a knack for mastering anything almost immediately. He was never caught off guard by surprise quizzes nor the challenge questions that your teachers would slip in —it was always as if he just _knew_ the answer.

To most of the school, Kuroo was polite, respectful, and mature: a model student with a sense of responsibility so strong that no metal in Hephaestus’ forgery could compare to. Amidst all his qualities, his cleverness was the one trait that seemed to shine brighter than the rest. He was, by all means, a trickster at heart: always looking for places to poke fun at and tease —to rile up his friends and his enemies alike to meet his own objectives.

Unfortunately, you often found yourself to be the subject to his teasing, with him egging you on in situations like these simply to get a laugh out of your reaction. You had fully expected Kuroo to jest at your misfortune today like any other, but for once, you were met by silence instead.

You turned your head over to your left, finding that Kuroo had stopped to a standstill and was looking absently at the floor tile on your right with his eyes flickering like the embers in the fire of the hearth. A second later, his eyes rapidly blinked —as if extinguishing the flames from earlier— and he glanced back up at you.

“Yeah, can’t believe Nakamura-sensei dropped that calculus quiz on us today,” he answered as if he hadn’t just zoned out into a trance moments earlier.

This would happen every so often, you noticed. Perhaps it was a trick of the light or your eyes deceiving your mind, but you _swore_ that Kuroo’s pale-brown eyes would glow golden whenever he spaced out and found himself lost in his thoughts. 

In fact, it had happened earlier at lunch just today. He had zoned out mid-sentence during lunch with the same glint in his eyes, and when he snapped back to reality, had confidently declared that it would rain later in the day. You had laughed it off, thinking it was a joke. How could it possibly rain when the sky and the forecast both said so otherwise? There had not been a single cloud present to obscure the blue of the sky, and the sun was glaring down with eager excitement from high above.

You now narrowed your eyes at the sight of the rain behind the glass doors of the school. As if a switch had been pulled, the second the school bell rang to release the students from the classrooms, Zeus had coincidentally decided to release the rain clouds into the atmosphere.

You thought about how Kuroo had spoken with with such confidence and such certainty —no trace of hesitation in neither his voice nor his body language. He _knew_ , didn’t he? But how? Could it be all chalked up to luck?

“Something wrong, Tetsu?” You asked, looking up at your friend while you blindly rummaged through your bag for your umbrella.

He frowned, and then shook his head. “Not really,” he started as he took a step out of the building, opening his umbrella while doing so, “it’s just that I thought your umbrella was blue. You know, the one with the blue chickens on it? When’d you get a red one?”

You stared in confusion as your hand found the umbrella sitting at the bottom of your bag. “Well yeah,” you started, slowly bringing your umbrella out to hold it in front of your face, “but it broke just last night. I’m borrowing my mom’s right now.”

He hummed as he waited for you to join him under the rain, his own black umbrella held up high over his head. Something about the man always did seem to strike you as odd. The way he would seem to just _know_ things beforehand. You were certain that he had never seen your mom’s umbrella before. No, the umbrella with the blue chickens on it was your absolute favorite and had served you faithfully throughout your entire —or well, almost entire— high school career. And yet, despite it being the first time Kuroo _should’ve_ seen the red umbrella with the polkadots sitting in your hand right now, there was a trace of what seemed like _recognition_ that had settled across his features when you had first pulled it out.

“How did you know?” You asked as you walked up next to him, carrying the umbrella over your head as the two of you walked in perfect synchronization down the cement road, the petrichor smell of the rain settling at the back of your senses.

For what seemed like a sliver of a second, the usually calm and collected Kuroo looked taken aback for once in his life —his arms flailing about, his umbrella flung to the side such that his jacket now found itself marked by the pouring rain, and his pupils so blown out that you wondered if you had mistook his eye color completely to begin with.

“I—” he stammered, scratching the back of his neck as if he was desperately coming up with an answer to your question. “Lucky guess?” He meekly suggested, raising an arm out in a half shrug. “Yeah, just a lucky guess.”

“You seemed pretty sure though.”

A nervous chuckle came from your friend as he quickened his pace, grabbing onto your wrist and dragging you along as he walked past. “You know, this new crepe store opened up at the mall and we absolutely _must_ go. Like, right now.”

“Wait, but you didn’t answer my question yet!” You protested as you tried to match your pace to his, clumsily trying your utmost to keep your umbrella over your head and your bag hanging on your shoulder.

“The line up is horrendous, (f/n), horrendous I tell you. Probably even worse than the monsters they keep down in Tartarus…” Kuroo rattled on, the back of his head facing you.

“Tartarus?”

The question seemed to have struck a nerve in the man, and you quickly found yourself having to break out into a jog solely to keep up with Kuroo who had since increased his stride.

“No time to lose! Less talking, more walking!”

Yup.

There was certainly something odd about him indeed.


End file.
